


Scream

by DustToDust



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 06:04:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4008655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustToDust/pseuds/DustToDust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A handler's job is to understand their asset. To know what they want and need. To make sure they get it to ensure they operate at peak efficiency.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scream

**Author's Note:**

> AUish, no Avengers but the twins join SHIELD as assets. All the window dressing needed for what is smut.

"Maximoff," Clint barks at the blur of gray when the helicopter lands. He points towards the rooms set aside for debriefing even though the blur that's Pietro is already gone. 

No one questions it when Clint hands over his bow and quiver to Natasha and follows the man. Her own eyes are taking in every move Wanda makes as she disembarks at her own pace. Assessing what it is her asset needs most in these few critical seconds like all good handlers do. Like Clint had done even before the pair came in sight of his eyes.

Clint has to search the building for Pietro. It's a smallish place with only a few regular agents, but there's still way too many empty rooms to look into. The more empty rooms Clint finds the worse he ups the estimate of the damage on both of the twins minds. It has to be worse on Wanda, because she was the one who had stayed with the dying child. Probably mentally as well as physically, but Wanda isn't his asset to deal with. That's Nat's job. His job is Pietro who Clint finds in the room furthest away from any other living person on the base. The request in that act is clear and Clint makes sure to lock the door behind him.

Pietro wants --no, needs-- to _scream_.

He doesn't need to lock the door to keep other Agents from crashing in. Every SHILED agent knows better than to get between a handler and their asset. Especially after a mission when the asset needs to be wound down. The click of the lock sliding home is for Pietro's benefit though.

He's already naked and laying on a desk that Clint's fairly sure wasn't originally in this room. One arm draped over his eyes though the tension that vibrates through his body shows he knows he's not alone. His uniform is folded neatly under the desk, one of the drawers open on the other side. His weapons will be in there within easy reach if Clint were to look.

Knives, because at the speed Pietro travels, anything with complicated moving pieces will tend to break faster than normal wear and tear can account for.

Clint doesn't look. He also doesn't say anything as he walks up to the desk and pulls the arm away. He looks down at Pietro's face. Into his eyes that are far away and haunted with more than just the trauma of this particular mission. Pietro gets even more tense and tries to pull his arm back. To hide again, but Clint doesn't let go. Only stands there and stares straight into his eyes. He knows what Pietro needs right now, but there's one very important thing Clint needs for himself before he starts.

" _Yes!_ " Pietro eventually hisses out. Angry and spitting his words out in his native tongue. One that Clint had learned a month after getting handed the brat out of sheer self-defense. " _Fuck me, hurt me. I don't fucking care! Just make it stop. Please, Clint._ "

He'd started off angry and pissed, but he's pleading by the last word. Begging with his body as much as his voice and Clint doesn't waste time teasing. He has permission and Pietro needs him. 

He doesn't need pain. Not this time, but Clint gives him a little anyway when he leans down to kiss him. Pietro opens up for him immediately, teeth clashing deliberately against Clint's even as he sucks hungrily at his tongue. Hands desperate as they pull Clint down on top of him, and Clint's glad he brought more pants than he thought he'd need because these ones aren't going to be wearable again. Pietro's hands moving faster than the clothing was made to withstand. Ripping and tearing until he can get a hand around Clint's dick. 

Pietro always needs some variation of the same thing to wind down. No matter how good or bad a mission goes. Clint's found himself developing a sort of embarrassing Pavlovian response these days to the end of a mission that's almost gotten him in trouble a time or two, but it helps to be more than half hard when Pietro needs it hard and fast and _now_.

It's a fight to get the man to stay on his back. When Pietro's the one taking it, he tends to like pinning Clint down and riding him to his own pleasure. Multiple times, because Pietro has a ridiculous refractory period when he gets up to those speeds. It tends to be an insanely fast ride that's making Clint seriously consider the pros and cons of Viagra just to keep up with the damn man.

Pietro doesn't need that right now though, and Clint pins his arms over his head with one hand fairly easily. Pressing down hard enough that the edge of the desk bites warningly into Pietro's flesh. Until the hands turn in his grip to hold onto the edge. 

"Move these," Clint says in warning as he kneels back up, "and I will stop. Understand?"

" _Fuck you!_ " Pietro growls but he doesn't move as Clint pushes his pants down more. He's a pretty sight stretched across the desk. Muscles tense and fairly vibrating from his need. Clint would like to stop and admire this image, but the last thing Pietro needs is time to think.

So Clint multitasks. He finds the tube of lube easily enough and slicks up his dick with one hand while he runs the fingers of his other hand down. Pietro's slick, open and ready in the few moments it took Clint to find him. Barely enough lube to make this work, and Clint lets go of himself long enough to gets some more lube on his fingers to push into Pietro.

Three fingers because a little edge always makes Pietro arch up and hiss with pleasure. His blue eyes fluttering shut and mouth opening on a long groan when Clint twists his fingers before spreading them open. He's holding onto the edge of the table with a white-knuckled grip when Clint decides that's good enough.

Pietro cries out in frustration when Clint pulls his fingers out. His eyes open in a flash and he bares his teeth up at him with a snarl that Clint knows better than to get near right now. He's got _scars_ from that dammit.

"Don't you dare," Clint says, putting enough edge to his words to make it through the desperation still in Pietro's eyes even as Clint moves up. Gets his knees under the man's thighs and pulls his lower body up onto his lap. Clint groans a little as his dick slides along the slick crease of Pietro's ass a bit. It's enjoyable as fuck, but those teeth are still there and Clint grabs himself. Guiding his dick to sink into the man. "You're so fucking impatient."

Pietro doesn't hear him though. His eyes are shut again. Head thrown back as Clint sinks into him. Not slow, but not quickly either. It's a pace too fast for Clint's taste and really not fast enough for Pietro's, but is exactly what the man needs right now. He's breathing, fast and every exhale has the hint of a sound to it.

A sound that grows when Clint's all the way in, and doesn't bother waiting for him to adjust. There's a pace and a rhythm to this that's needed. One that doesn't call for any pausing or faltering. Clint grits his teeth and closes his eyes for a moment to feel it. To find what Pietro needs, then he goes for it.

"Ah!" Pietro's cries are sharp and rise with each thrust. The muscles in his arms stand out as he fights to keep them still, and also fights to keep himself from sliding up the desk with each thrust. " _Yes, yes!_ "

His body is hot and tight around Clint's dick. Seeming to clench all around him with the same desperate intensity of the hands on the desk. Clint's panting, a little out of breath as he hooks Pietro's legs over his arms. Pulling him up and opening him even more until those sharp cries lose coherency. Until Pietro starts to _writhe_ under him.

Clint knows he's got the right angle when Pietro screams, and he clenches down tight enough to punch the air from Clint's lungs.

"Oh, fuck," Clint groans low as he works on repeating that. Letting himself get egged on to going faster as Pietro's heels press into his sides. His screams loud enough now that someone, somewhere is hearing him.

It takes work and effort to hold out when he gets Pietro to this point. To not come and leave the man hanging right when he needs it the most. Clint's had practice with it though, and he knows --by the shift in tone, and the clench of the body under him-- when it's alright to stop thinking about regulations and dead puppies.

When it's alright to let himself really feel that way Pietro clenches around him, and to look down on the way his whole body moves to meet Clint. Hungry and starving eyes locked on his face as he fucks himself on Clint as much as he can with his limited movement. Blue eyes blown with lust, and soft mouth open on a river of obscene sounds as he goes rigid under Clint. Body going tight and blinding around Clint as he comes all over himself.

Clint fucks him through his orgasm. Keeping the pace steady until the hazy blue eyes start to focus again. Until Pietro moans again and starts to move. Looking for Clint's pleasure instead of his own. Dragging it out of Clint with his eyes and noise and body. In ways that make Clint swear and hold onto the man's body as he shoves all the way in and just _shakes_.

Shakes until he's empty and the whole damn world feels heavy and far away as he slumps over Pietro.

Clint doesn't move after he gets his breathing back under control. Even as he feels his knees twinge a little. He stays right where he is. Pietro's legs draped loosely around him, weight on Clint's thighs, and Clint's dick soft but still buried inside him. He rubs his hands soothingly up and down the powerful legs around him and counts the slow, even rising of Pietro's chest. Letting his presence, inside and around, soothe the man away from the edge.

Away from the memories of doomed children and the horrors of the world that will inevitable find him in sleep, but need to be distant right now. It'll last for a few minutes at the most, but Clint knows all too well how much of a blessing those few minutes can be.

It's his job as a handler to make sure his asset gets as many of those moments as he possibly can, and Clint only wishes there were more he could do for Pietro.

Pietro's hands are still curled over the edge of the desk. The muscles in his arms lax, but still following the orders Clint gave. Clint waits until he can see a sliver of blue from cracked eyes to lean forward and down. Slipping out a little to a protesting sound from Pietro that turns into a pleased hum when Clint kisses his left arm. Lips brushing over the skin that's within easy reach. "Good?"

"Good," Pietro answers in English after several seconds. His voice wrecked and tired sounding. He doesn't move at all after pulling his arms back down at the silent permission. Draping them around Clint's back so that the fingers can press hard into him instead of the desk. Hard enough to keep Clint still for a while longer. Another request of what he needs right now.

To not be alone.

It's not much, maybe, but Clint's always relieved when he can give Pietro whatever it is he needs to help him. Staying isn't all that much of a hardship after all.

Later he'll ask the hard questions. Pull the story out of Pietro. Agonizing bit by agonizing bit until the man hates his guts and storms away. For now, though, Clint stays.


End file.
